


The King Who Knelt

by ariannenymerosmartell (somethingmoo)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingmoo/pseuds/ariannenymerosmartell





	The King Who Knelt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crossingwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/gifts).



The dragons land at Moat Cailin, just as they had all those years ago. There are three of them, each one massive in size, and Jon wills his eyes not to widen in fear. 

What was it, Arya had whispered to him, as he set out to meet this so-called Dragon Queen?

_Calm as still water._

Mayhaps he should have sent Arya to treat with her instead. The singers would love the meeting of the Dragon Queen and the Wolf Queen. 

Instead, they get the Dragon Queen and the Bastard King-- Jon isn’t deaf to the words of the men, especially those who think him weak for treating with the Targaryen Queen. 

_We bent the knee once and the Bastard King means to bend again!_

Even now, even after hearing Tormund tell them of the white walkers, even after seeing what the Others can do, there are still those among his company who argue for independence and a throne. 

He wants to throttle them. _Don’t you fools see?_ He wants to scream sometimes, over the din in Winterfell’s halls. _Don’t you see? There is no kingdom lest we get the dragons to fight with us._

It is why Jon agrees to meet her alone, save for Ghost at his side. 

 _If she can have her dragons, I can have my wolf_ , Jon thinks, grimly, grateful as ever for the presence of the white wolf, though he knows he would stand no chance against her dragons. 

“Daenerys Targaryen, I presume,” is how he greets the petite silver-haired girl who dismounts from the back of the giant black beast, the largest of the three dragons.   


Absurdly, Jon is reminded of Rickon and Shaggydog. 

“Jon Snow,” the girl, _no woman_ , Jon reminds himself, returns cooly.   


“Welcome to the North,” he says drily, as Ghost bares his teeth at the black and white dragons. Curiously, the white wolf doesn’t turn his snarl on the green one. 

“I mean to know all my kingdom,” the girl says, and Jon near smiles. She’s bold.  


“You know it already, Your Grace,” he says, offering the title as a gesture of good will. “Like your ancestor, you rule easily over six kingdoms. I’m afraid the North does not belong to you.”   


Daenerys laughs. 

“You mean to tell me your frozen lands and starving people can withstand the fires of three dragons?” The Targaryen Queen scoffs at him, and raises one eyebrow.   


Jon is so strongly reminded of Val that he must take a breath to steady himself. 

“I mean to tell you that my frozen land and starving people _need_  the fire of your three dragons, Your Grace,” he says, and he watches the confusion cover Daenerys’ face.   


 _She’s beautiful_ , he decides then. _Especially when she is thinking._

“Make your meaning plain, Lord Snow,” she says, but there is no heat to her words, her body language--and her dragons--all relaxed.   


Jon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. _She will listen._

“It’s King Jon,” he says, still unused to the title, but understanding why he must use it now. Arya’s voice echoes in his head. _She may be a Queen, but do not forget that you are a King._  


He tells her of the Others. He tells her of white walkers, of cold that burns, of the night that never ends. He tells her of Craster, of the Wall, of _Bran_. 

When he is done, the Dragon Queen stares at him with wide purple eyes, a look of stunned disbelief on her face. 

“I dreamed it,” she whispers, after a long pause. “I’ve seen this white creatures in night terrors, and a man with blue lips as cold--”   


“Euron Greyjoy,” Jon says sharply, cutting her off. Bran had warned him about the man. “Does he know where you are, does he--” 

“He is missing,” Daenerys says grimly. “My dragons burnt his fleet and killed most of his men, but the wretch escaped.”   


She looks at him then, naught but steel writ in her violet eyes.

“I will join my forces to yours, Jon Snow, to defeat this evil and save my kingdom.”   


Jon smiles at her. She’s good with her words. 

“I appreciate the gesture Your Grace, but you would be helping _our_  kingdoms,” he says. “I will kneel to you here, and declare you queen of six kingdoms for all the North to hear, and I will swear that the North should never raise arms against you, but the North will remain independent.”   


“You need my help--” Daenerys says, but Jon raises a hand to cut her off. She looks at him, slightly amused.  


“We don’t need your help. The North will fight down to it’s last man. But if _we_  cannot hold them back, then _you_  do not have a kingdom.”  


She gazes at him with something like respect, and the green dragon has sat up, from where it had been laying in the snow. 

“Your Grace,” he begins, “The North will not be part of your kingdom, but you cannot have a kingdom without the aid of the North. Do we have a deal?” 

Daenerys stares at him, and for a long moment, Jon fears she will merely give the order for her dragon to burn him there and then, that he was incredibly stupid to not have archers hidden away as Tormund and Arya had suggested. But to his great surprise, she nods slowly and holds out her hand. 

He kneels in the snow at her feet and kisses her hand. When Jon looks up, he is surprised to find her blushing. 

“Your Grace?” he asks, still on his knees in the snow.  


“It is nothing,” Daenerys says hastily, but her blush has deepened now, and she looks all the lovelier for it.   


“Tell me,” he implores, still in the snow, and while Daenerys shakes her head, Jon suddenly has a vision of himself parting her riding gown and-- _oh_.   


He looks to Ghost confused. He’s had those visions before, but only ever from the wolf and he cannot imagine how Ghost would get _that_ , but the wolf isn’t even looking in his direction. Curiously, the green dragon is. 

He bites his lip, and Daenerys blushes further, and that makes up his mind. 

He reaches forward and grips her hips, and pulls her closer to him. 

She makes a squeaking noise, and Jon stifles his laughter by kissing the thigh of her riding gown. He parts it, as he had seen in the vision, and slowly unlaces the breeches underneath. 

“You don’t--” Daenerys starts, and makes to push his hand away, but Jon kisses it instead. 

“Consider it a means to seal our promise,” Jon offers, surprised at the _desire_  that has overcome him.   


Daenerys flushes anew, but doesn’t make any other moves to push him away, and so he tugs her breeches down. She shivers instantly, and Jon moves closer, letting the folds her her riding gown close over him, effectively hiding him under her skirts. 

He places delicate kisses to the insides of her thighs, and when she says his name, as a whisper, _Jon_ , he seals his mouth over her clit. 

This time she moans his name. Jon doesn’t think he’s ever heard it said more sweetly. He licks at her clit, and then dips his tongue into her, and Daenerys Targaryen’s knees buckle. 

He grabs one leg and places it over his shoulder, and holds her other ankle. While it stabilizes her, his motives aren’t entirely altruistic-- she is more open for him now, and his tongue more easily can explore her wet center.

It’s obscene the noises she makes, and the wet sounds his tongue makes as he moves it in and out of her, alternating quick teasing laps at her clit, and diving it back into her. 

Above him, she is panting and whimpering, and when she grips his hair he knows she is close. He returns his attentions to her clit then, licking and sucking, until she moans his name again, and her legs shake around him. 

 _Thing King Who Knelt_ , Jon thinks to himself, trying to hide his grin as he extricates himself from her riding gown, and returns to standing. He senses the green dragon’s eyes on him, and when he turns he is surprised to see Ghost standing calmly next to the great beast. It means something, Jon knows, but he can’t say what. 

He opens his mouth to ask Daenerys the name of the dragon, but is greeted by her tongue instead, sweeping into his mouth, while her arms come around his neck. 

He’s a moment off, but his arms wrap themselves around her waist, and he deepens the kiss by bending her backward just a little. 

When she breaks away, they are both breathless, and Jon is so grateful he did not listen to Arya and Tormund. 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Daenerys says with a teasing smile, and Jon grins at her, and the use of the title. 

He is surprised though, when Daenerys makes to kneel. 

“What are you--” he starts, but Daenerys is pulling him forward by his breeches, and Jon would have to truly be daft not to be able to figure it out.   


“Queens kneel too, Your Grace,” she tells him with a wink. “It takes two to honor a pact.”   


She undoes his breeches in one swift motion, and her hand slips in to stroke his cock. Jon bites his lip to keep from moaning. 

“I’ll have no man say the Dragon Queen and the King in the North didn’t have an equal agreement.” 

She pulls her hand away and her mouth is on him before he can even feel the cold.


End file.
